For Marine Le Pen And Her Lapins by Arturo Desimone


I never liked those girls who at their lunch-break need to tell everyone their dreams
but yesterday, I tele-dreamt of a childish prophetess
Who taught what monsters do exist,
My third eye dilates, stutters
Your smoke is everywhere,
Fill my dreams– the bunker–
Marine without repose,
What sleeping pills will be prescribed
to you and to your savant crew?
Pharmakon has not yet invented the formula
Hypnos won’t allow it.
Macron got nothing on you

Oh Marine! Elijah knew
What to do
With the likes of you,
as he discarded the hands and feet of Jezebel!
at the foot of the tower…
for her murder-spree, and her money-laundering–
with the capital she speculated from the stolen vineyards of Avner,
of Langued’oc,
washed feet of fountains of Lourdes–

Arturo DesimoneArturo Desimone, Arubian-Argentinian writer and visual artist, was born in 1984 on the island Aruba which he inhabited until the age of 22, when he emigrated to the Netherlands. He is currently based in Argentina while working on a long fiction project about childhoods, diasporas, islands and religion. Desimone’s articles, poetry and short fiction pieces have previously appeared in CounterPunch, Círculo de Poesía(Spanish) Acentos Review, New Orleans Review, DemocraciaAbierta, The Missing Slate and BIM Magazine in the Caribbean.

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